Glassomancy
by TechTeamAI
Summary: What happens when magic is turned into science? What happens when magic is sufficiently analysed, and turned into engineering? What happens when a magical engineer meets wizards? Dead! Dead and buried! Goodbye!
1. Book 1: Chapter 1: Arrival

Glassomancy.

What was this form of magic, as noted from the Latin-derived suffix? This form of magic is used in the city of Taurus. And there, to quote the famous Terry Pratchett, our story begins.

Simon Alec Cooper woke, as always, at 7:00, and was dressed and eating breakfast in the student cafeteria shortly thereafter. He attended Taurus University, working towards a bachelor's in magical engineering. As he walked out of the cafeteria he pulled out his Slate, a magical construct, and made a note to recharge the mana battery in his clock. The numbers were starting to fade. Going to his first class, Transposition, Translation, and Teleportation, otherwise known as the 3T course, and sitting down, he extended his Slate, and pulled up his usual desktop, and got ready to take notes. Just a few months in to the school year, and he was already designing his own transportation spells.

As Simon left class, absentmindedly going through the notes on the slate, the wiry young man seemed distinctly youthful. This was entirely accurate, as he was far too young to be attending the University. He just happened to have a good mind for the precise visualization of complex circuitry that magic demanded. He was fully capable of holding a three-dimensional spell pattern in his mind, and was working on fourth-dimensional patterns.

His wanderings led him to the university's mana plant, where electricity, from the national power grid, most likely one of the new fusion reactors, was converted into mana. Unlike electricity, mana had mass, and therefore, was a pain to transport long distances. The fusion plant had its own magical setup, including mana plant. Simon had been at the opening ceremony for the first functioning fusion reactor. It had been a breakthrough in magic and engineering. He checked his own mana reserves, feeling around with the innate ability of those who have been exposed to large quantities of mana to detect mana. He could use another gigajoule of energy. He walked up to the counter, paid the fee, five cad, and placed his hands on the two solid beryllium spheres, and started to draw energy. He was almost done (he could draw at 15 megawatts) when he felt a brief pulse of mana in the air. Stepping away from the terminal, and with a sweep of his hand, he erected a Faraday cage for magic, a roughly spherical shell of mana threads, each conductive to magical energy. The shell was a simple one, and fed into a small siphon collector. He stood, ready for the overload that the pulse usually heralded. These overloads were getting annoying.

The wall exploded.

He turned towards the blast, already instantiating a magical shield, burning through the recent mana charge.

The shield drained into the Faraday shield.

The mana pulse raced ahead of the wall.

It hit the shield.

The shield's siphon overloaded.

Simon woke up. He found himself in a small yard behind a building, along with a few bits of wood, presumably from the floor of the charging station. Looking around, there were brick walls all around him, with a door into some sort of building behind him.

Exiting the building was an oddly dressed man, no woman, wearing a pointed hat, and carrying what appeared to be a carved stick.

Simon spoke up, "Excuse me, I think I've just had a magical accident. Where am I?"

"You're in Diagon Alley. Where are your parents?"

Simon sighed, and pulled out his university card.

"What's that?"

"Don't you recognize- oh. I must be very far from home. What's this city called?"

"London."

Professor McGonagall was having a decidedly busy day. Many students that had to be let in on the secret, and now a student who wasn't in the Book of Names. As she apparated in to the small yard just outside of the Leaky Cauldron, she certainly did not expect the new student to have pulled out some sort of magical conjuration.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"Excuse me. I'm Simon Cooper. Who are you?"

"Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh dear. I've jumped realities."

"Young man, I think you're-"

She was cut off as Simon stood up sharply, pushed his bluish glass thing into his jacket, and pulled out a card of some sort.

"You're a mage. Pulse this card."

"What?" The professor was certainly confused.

"Mage. Magical engineer. Could you please send a pulse of magical power into this card?"

"I think this is a task for the headmaster."

"So you believe me now?"

"I'm not sure what to think."

"We'll floo to his office."

"Floo?"

"Yes, floo. It's a network that connects fireplaces."

"Well, er-"

"It's perfectly safe."

"Just give me a moment, all right?"

Simon waved both hands around him in a grand gesture, then stepped into the fire.

"What now?"

"Good gods! You'll burn yourself!"

"No, I won't." He pointed to himself. "Mage."

The professor muttered, and took a pinch of powder, casting it down, and announcing very clearly, "Hogwarts."

The flames flared green, swirled, and the pair stepped out of a fireplace into an ornately decorated office.

Simon looked up, sharply. He just had a small bump in his awareness.

"I suppose I should introduce myself again. I am Headmaster Dumbledore, and you've just had a few minutes of your memory erased. Fumble chuzzle spuz."

Simon looked momentarily surprised, then upon hearing his three secret memory-check words, looked even more surprised, but slightly less nervous.

"Minevra, perhaps you might consider choosing your own words? It would help very much if I had to alter your memory for you, as I just have."

"Headmaster," asked Simon, "what were we talking about, and why was my memory erased?"

"You've agreed not to tell yourself. You have come to the agreement that it would be best if you stayed in this school for now, and learned a different kind of magic. Your past self has also told me to tell you, 'slate, octagon, square pi'."

Simon finally relaxed fully, and pulled out his slate, a solidified magical construct. "This is a slate. It's what most mages, and many other people use for most computer-related functions."

"Hang on, other people? Muggles?" an incredulous McGonagall asked.

"Yep. About one percent of people ever have any interest in magic, and of those, only one percent ever become proficient in magic."

"So magic is something that you can just give away?"

"Sort of. Magic, as we know it, is a method of storing and using another type of energy. Spells are cast by shaping mana, a type of magical material that can be converted into magical energy, into a circuit, then running magical energy, which is the other form of mana, through that circuit. Also, you can make a spell more permanent by changing the mana used to make the spell matrix into solid mana, like I have done with my slate. Most people have a few m-joules of energy, while mages, magical engineers have a few g-joules. Clear?"

"Good heavens, no." McGonagall clearly did not understand a single word. The headmaster, on the other hand, was nodding as if he had heard the explanation before, which he had.

"Simon, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to stop you there. You've already agreed not to remember certain things, and you're close to rediscovering them."

"Alright, headmaster. Could I see what I said to myself?"

"Certainly."

Pulling out a pair of headphones, and tapping the headphones to the slate before slipping them on, Simon started to listen to himself talk.

"Hey me. I reality jumped. Stay in this school, learn about this magic, eventually head home. Trust me. Fumble chuzzle spuz. Oh and, hold back your power. These folks have to rely on the background mana levels, which are a few k-watts at most."

Pulling off his headphones, Simon looked at the headmaster, "I think I'll stay."

Some minutes later, Professor McGonagall and Simon were flooing to Diagon Alley, and Gringotts bank. Simon had the shopping list in hand, and was looking it over.

"I haven't any money to pay for this, nor do I wish to magic up some."

"Don't be silly. You can't make conjure money."

"Could you yet me have a try?"

The professor handed over a silver coin, oddly inscribed.

"Hm, there's some odd magics."

Simon started to wave his hands about, then clapped his hands together in a most dramatic manner. Professor McGonagall looked down, and suddenly there were two sickles on the ground.

"You do know, Cooper, that what you just did is impossible?"

"It should stand up to just about any sort of analysis."

"I think the goblins of Gringotts would be most pleased if you told them how you did that. Most likely you would be given a reward."

"I'd rather not. If I could just destroy one of those?"

"Of course."

Simon once again started to wave his hands, and with a small bang, a sickle disappeared.

"I would have expected a quieter sound"

"What would you expect? I had to convert the mass of that coin into atmospheric gas."

"Well, I should warn you against trying to do this in the future. The goblins won't send lawyers or aurors, they'll send an army."

"I'll bear that in mind. What's on the shopping list?"

"I have a copy of your parchments here."

As Simon took the list, he tapped his slate against it. Both objects briefly glowed blue, before the glow subsided, and he handed back the parchments to the professor.

"Three sets robes, one pointed hat, one pair protective gloves, a cloak, all of this with name tags, a whole stack of books, a wand, a cauldron, some phials, a telescope, a set of scales, and a pet. No broomsticks. No staff?"

"Why would you need a staff?"

"Mage stuff."

"I think an exception could be made, as long as you do not make a broom out of it."

"Right. I think that I'll need to buy the books, I can create the robes, hat, and cloak, and I can easily make far superior gloves. Ditto the phials, cauldron, telescope, and scales. I just need to know what all of the usual uniform robes look like."

"Well, the Headmaster has allowed you one hundred galleons."

"I should be able to save a good chunk from the robes and gloves. May I?"

"I don't see why not. It should be an interesting exercise in magic."

"I'd like to have a staff first."

"What is a staff? A long wooden cane?"

"Well, I prefer my staves to be wooden, with a metal sheath inside. A staff is a tool used by mages. Each person has their own configuration. Every person's is unique, and suited to their style of magic."

"Like a wand?"

Simon laughed. "We actually have wands. They're basically miniaturized staves. Not many people use them, not enough space for the Glassware."

"I'll just need a length of good quality wood, about a meter and a half, some steel, and access to a lot of magic."

"Olivanders should have some wood of good quality, and steel should be easily transfigured."

"Great!"

The pair walked into Olivander's wand shop, where Professor McGonagall turned to Simon,

"I'll just leave you here, and get your books. Please behave yourself."

Simon looked around. In a quiet voice, he said,

"Hello?"

Suddenly a sliding ladder slid out from in between two shelves stacked with boxes. Standing on the ladder was an old man, Olivander.

"Good day. I am Mister Olivander. Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"I am Simon Cooper. I would like to buy a wand."

"Very well, mister Cooper. Let me see."

The old man looked at a few boxes, before settling on one. Taking out the wand, a rod of wood from it, he handed it to Simon. Simon took the wand. Feeling the wand with his magical senses, Cooper felt that the wand was a way of accessing pre-stored spell formulae.

"Well, give it a wave."

Simon waved the wand, consciously not allowing any mana into the wand. Nothing happened.

"Were you expecting something to happen?" asked Simon.

"Curious. Wands choose wizards, and this wand happens to think that you are not a wizard."

"I'm a mage. I'm worried that the wand won't be able to handle the amounts of power that I usually use."

"My wands are the best in Britain! Of course it will work."

Simon sighed, put up a shield, then sent a few watts through the wand. He selected the light spell. The wand tip started to glow softly. He pushed the power up to local background levels. The light was now about as bright as a lamp. He pushed it to one m-watt. The wand burst into flames. He dropped the shield. Looking concerned he said,

"I think that I'll take another wand."

"Most curious."

Olivander selected another wand.

"This is a more powerful wand. It, unlike the first wand, has two cores. Wandlore says that two cores, while not impossible, are incredibly difficult, but will grant extraordinary power to its user."

Olivander passed the wand to Simon. Simon put up a shield again, and passed a k-watt though it. He pushed it to ten k-watts, then one hundred. The wand heated up dangerously at three hundred k-watts.

"I think this one's fine. Still very underpowered, but I'll take it. For the second part of my request, could I have about a meter of oak wood, taken from the core of the tree?"

"Good heavens, that wand could challenge Dumbledore himself! And you say it's underpowered!"

"I'm used to using staves."

"Very well."

"Oh, do you have any steel?"

"Some."

"Great! Could I please have about a fifty kilograms of steel?"

"What's that in old units?"

"One hundred ten pounds, thereabouts."

"Hm. If you show me how to make a staff, you can have you whole order for free."

"Of course."

Olivander hurried into his back room, excited at a new development in wandcraft, something which comes so rarely. Olivander returned to the front of the shop to see Simon holding a blue glass slab, which was putting up an image of a series of crystals.

"Thank you."

Simon took the materials.

"A staff can be made out of any material, but I prefer steel-liked oak. First, we shape the staff's diameter to its user's hands."

Simon explained that a staff had to be easily gripped, and comfortable to hold.

"Generally, a staff should fit neatly in one's hands, with one's thumb over one's fingertips when you are holding it. Additionally, a staff should come to a user's shoulder. For me, that's about a meter and a half, or about five feet."

With a few gestures, the ends of the wood were chopped off, then the log was cut to size. It was then quickly shaved to size as well.

"Next, we take the shavings, and use those to make a reinforcing varnish layer. You don't have to transmute the shavings, I just don't like to waste good material."

With a few more waves, the staff was coated with an unobtrusive varnish.

"Then, we hollow out the staff, and line the inside with steel."

A few quick gestures shaped the steel bars into a steel can, then a few more elongated the can into a proper lining for a staff.

"We put the internal Glassware in, that's the actual magical parts of the staff. For mine, I've got a sensory and diagnostic system topper for the staff, a targeting system just under it, a whole whack of power cells and power collectors – I am in a higher background magic than my home, these should give me an extra ten g-joules with about one m-watt of power – and finally, add a shield spell formula."

Simon opened up the metal tube, pulled out a series of crystals from thin air, and slid them into the tube. He then opened up the top of the staff, put the tube in backwards, then put back the small slide of wood. He sealed up the bottom with a small dab of glue. Finally, he gathered together the waste materials, and bundled them up in a transmuted plastic bag.

"There. All done."

"Young man, does this actually work?"

"You bet it does. Here, I'll do some spellwork with it."

Simon looked at the staff, then popped a clear glass shield around himself into existence.

"Yup, it works."

"I have no words! This is extraordinary! Young man, you have just turned magic on its head!"

"So, can I have this?"

"Yes, of course you can."

"Thanks!"

Simon left the shop, holding the staff, wand in its box, and met up with McGonagall.


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2: Sorting

"Platform nine and three-quarters? I'd understand platform nine and a half, but why three quarters? It's exactly halfway between platform nine and ten!"

Simon Cooper was perplexed. He's just finished shopping with Professor McGonagall, and had his books, robes, and other items all packed away in his trunk. He had a staff in hand, and was ready to start his first year of magical schooling all over again in a new universe. He was wheeling his trunk along on a luggage trolley, as he pondered the brick pillar, inside of which was hidden a magical train station, supposedly.

As he walked towards the portal, he noticed a pair of students, one dressed in somewhat ill-fitting clothes, another in just somewhat ill-fitting clothes. They were carrying trunks similar to his own. Behind them walked several siblings, and their mother. He walked up to the group.

"Excuse me, is there anything between platforms nine and ten?"

The woman, the mother, turned and answered.

"There's platform nine and three quarters."

"And to get in, you just walk through that wall?"

"Yes, dear. First year?"

"Yes."

"Just head towards the wall at a bit of a run, if you're nervous."

"Alright."

And with that, Simon tucked is staff under his arm and took off towards the wall at a fairly brisk walk, and he just passed through the wall as if it wasn't there. On the other side, he saw a scarlet train, and a platform full of students.

He pushed his trolley to the return area, and lugged his trunk up from it. Nearby, a blond haired student was commenting dryly to his father,

"Look at him, lugging his trunk like a muggle. What is that log he's carrying, anyways?"

Feeling somewhat foolish, he stopped trying to pick up his trunk, and held his staff in his right hand. He pointed it at the trunk, and a small disk of blue crystal popped into existence underneath the trunk, lifting it. He turned to the pair.

"Why, thank you for reminding me that I no longer need keep my gift secret."

The elder spoke, dismissive.

"And who might you be, a mudblood?"

"I am of house Cooper. You are?"

"House Malfoy, although I expected one such as yourself to know us."

"I am foreign, visiting to attend Hogwarts. Such a quaint school, but not much for teaching how to use power, I'm afraid."

"You dare insult us?"

"Yes. I dare. My house has mastered magic, so that it is no longer a thing of wonder, but a tool, a tool to be used, and it is fully understood. We know the why and how of magic. It is, to use a phrase most unwizardly, sufficiently analyzed. I am a mage, not some sideshow performer."

With that, he slammed the butt of his staff against the floor, and sent a small burst of raw magic at the pair. Small, in this case, being a few hundred times more powerful that the usual background magic. The pair flinched back, surprised at the force of the burst.

"Do you wish to challenge me now?"

The pair stalked off.

"That was brilliant!" exclaimed the red haired student.

"Is that what magic is?" asked the second young student.

"That's not quite your magic, but it is my style of magic."

The train's whistle sounded, and the crowd of students hurried onto the train.

Simon found an empty compartment, and sat down. He was quickly followed by the somewhat shabby boy.

"Simon Cooper."

He stuck out his hand.

"Harry Potter."

Harry returned the handshake.

A red haired boy poked his head into the compartment. He was the boy from the platform.

"D'you mind? Everywhere else is full."

"Sure. Harry?" responded Simon.

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley."

"Nice to meet you," said Simon.

The group chatted, and Simon gathered that the general attitude was that of excitement over going to Hogwarts. He pulled out his slate, intent on continuing his homework.

A brown haired girl stuck her head into the compartment.

"Oh, what's that?"

"It's a slate."

"Are you going to do some magic? Let's see."

The girl sounded smug. Simon looked around, and saw that no-one else was stepping up to the challenge. He shrugged, put away his slate, and picked up his staff from where he had left it, leaning against a wall. He pointed the top of his staff at the trunk, and gave his left hand a dramatic flourish. The trunk floated down from the luggage rack.

"How's that?"

"That was good. I'm Hermione, by the way."

"Simon Cooper."

The introductions went around the compartment. Hermione spoke up again after the introductions were done.

"Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost his."

Simon stood up, and waved his hand around again. He frowned, leaned his staff in the corner, and waved his hands around as if he was feeling a sphere for a hidden panel for about ten seconds.

"It's in the compartment on the left. I think it's under one of the benches."

As the girl turned to leave, she remarked,

"You three better change into your school robes."

As the train was pulling into the station, Harry turned to Simon. "Could you fix my glasses, please?"

"Sure thing."

Simon pulled out his slate, and tapped on a few icons on it. The slate went blank, and he held it up and looked though it at Harry, who was still wearing his glasses.

"Good thing about Glass, is that it's mostly clear. Can you take off your glasses? I'd rather not throw around magic near someone's head."

"Yeah, sure."

Harry handed his glasses to Simon, who looked at them again. He set them down in the middle of the compartment, and waved his hands at the tape-covered break in the bridge of the glasses. The tape appeared to dissolve, and merge into the bridge, which was slowly pushed back together like putty, and then smoothed out again.

"I really need to get myself some capital-G Glasses."

"Capital G?"

"Basically, we, as mages, use Glass, with the capital G. Ordinary glass goes in windows. Come on. We should get going."

The boat ride to the castle was uneventful, as Simon was very much used to the grandeur of buildings from his home.

"Why is it a castle?"

Hermione spoke up,

"The founders built the school during the Middle Ages, and castles were the usual building back then. It's in Hogwarts, a History."

"I've read that book, and I would really like to have a talk with the author. I suppose my question should be, why is it still a castle?"

Hermione was at a loss for words.

Exiting the boats, the foursome ascended the stairs, Simon with his staff in hand.

"Ya'know, staves are murder to carry around. Some folks back home have tried making them shorter: didn't work, couldn't use it properly. Some folks have tried shrinking it, or splitting it into pieces. Unfortunately, the point of a staff is for a quick reaction, so that didn't work. Some folks use wands, basically mini staves, but they're just underpowered for a battlemage."

Hermione was a bit put off.

"Staves?"

"Something like this."

He gestured at his staff.

As the crowd of students reached the top of the stairs, they stopped, and stood there in a rough swarm.

Professor McGonagall walked to the front of the crowd, and started talking about the sorting ceremony.

"I will return when we are ready for you," concluded the Professor.

The flock of students walked into the great hall, and they lined up in front of a stool, on top of which sat a dirty, old, ragged, pointy hat. Professor McGonagall took out a large scroll, and called off the top name on the scroll.

"Abbott, Hannah."

As the sorting progressed, the professor continued down the list, apparently in alphabetical order.

"Cooper, Simon."

Simon walked up to the stool, and sat down as the professor put the hat on his head.

"Curious, most curious."

That was the hat. Simon started a mental conversation with the hat.

"You are the sorting hat."

"That is correct."

"Where do I go?"

"This is something new: I don't know where to put you. I must place you to the benefit of the whole school, yet your mind holds secrets that cannot be shared. You hold disdain for politics, and your power insulates you from most schemes and plots. You are not brave, but confident, you are not intelligent, but diligent, and you are not at all the type of student who would thrive in Hufflepuff. I'm at quite the loss."

"What would happen if I went to Slytherin?"

"The other students would shun you, and you, ever wrathful, would enact plots to get revenge, and in doing so, would cause untold chaos in Slytherin. It is best you do not go there."

"Gryffindor?"

"The heart of a true knight, you have, yet you have no wish to use your power. You are not cowardly, nor brave, but confident. Confident in your ability to do the right thing, and to always win."

"Ravenclaw?"

"You have a talent for learning, and are certainly intelligent, but you hold no thirst for learning: you have learned all there is, the problems which face you are those of invention. Your knowledge must also not be shared, not good for a Ravenclaw.

As for Hufflepuff, you are certainly not the ordinary friend that they desire. Should you go to Hufflepuff, they will find you overshadow them far too much."

"Is there no other option?"

The students in the great hall were quietly whispering. McGonagall though to herself, "another Hatstall."

The two chewed over the matter for a good five more minutes, before the Hat declared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Simon took off the Hat, and sat down at the Gryffindor table, to some stunned applause. Soon after the sorting, Harry, Hermione, and Ron joined him.

"How'd yours go, Harry? Yours seemed to take a while, like mine."

"I don't really feel like talking about it."

"Hermione?"

"The Hat did consider putting me in Ravenclaw."

"It did for me too."

The foursome ate and chatted. Simon got to know Neville, and the ghosts, among other people. After the feast, the Headmaster stood up, and delivered an odd speech, before rounding it out with warnings on the forbidden forest and the third floor corridor. The school song, a horrible cacophony with everyone singing the same words, but a different tune, was belted out, and Simon quietly deadened his sense of sound with a quick snap of his fingers.

"Gryffindors, first year Gryffindors, follow me."

The house prefect, Percy Weasley, lead the gaggle of first-years to the Gryffindor common room. On the way, they met Peeves, a poltergeist.

"Peeves, get out of the way or I will call the Bloody Baron on you," Percy imprecated.

Peeves stuck out his tongue, and continued to harass the students. Simon pointed at Peeves in a most dramatic manner, and spoke in a strong, and somewhat threatening, but certainly mysterious voice.

"Get ye gone from our path, or I shall curse you."

"Oho, little ickie firstie wants to play!"

Simon waved his left hand in a series of suitably arcane-looking gestures, then flicked his right hand at Peeves while snapping his fingers. Peeves suddenly started to fly back and forth, as if stuck in an invisible cage. Simon saw the invisible magical conductors forming a spherical cage preventing Peeves from leaving.

"Nice one," commented Percy.

The troop of students marched up to a portrait. Simon noticed that the portraits could all move, and many often did so. Percy turned and stood just in front of the portrait of a fat lady.

"The password is Caput Draconis. Remember it."

He turned to the portrait, and repeated the password. Simon pulled out his slate, and noted down the password: "dragon's head in Latin". He proceeded into the common room, followed by the rest of the students.

"Boys dormitories are on the left, girls on the right. Your trunks are already up there."

Simon went up the stairs to the boys side, and found his bed, changed into his pyjamas, and lay down into his bed, leaning his staff beside his bed.

He listened to the other boys chatter, and saw Harry sitting beside a window, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Whoops! Forgot to add this section. (I'm new to this).

Please (choose one): review/favourite/follow

Can anyone guess what the hand gestures are when using mage spells?

Thanks!


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3: Lessons

The Gryffindor boys trooped down to breakfast, and Simon looked forward to the first day of classes. As they sat down to a suitably British breakfast (toast, kippers, the lot), Simon chatted with the small group that had stuck together since the train ride.

"Looking forward to the first day of classes?"

Hermione was pleased, as if she had found a fellow academic, while Ron and Harry looked unsure. Professor McGonagall started around the tables, handing out timetables as she went. Simon pulled out his slate, and started to design a pair of Glasses. He quickly settled on a design, and gave a few waves of his hand, and just beside his plate, the frame for his Glasses started to crystallize out of thin air, forming a perfect replica of the simple Glasses frame currently displayed on his slate. Just as that was happening, Professor McGonagall walked by.

"Mister Cooper, there is to be no conjuring of objects before you have learned how to conjure them!"

"Professor, do you want to try rephrasing that? It sounded a bit contradictory."

"What I mean, Mister Cooper, is that you should not be transfiguring without prior training, especially in safety."

"Mage."

With that, the Professor handed out the timetables, and left for the next group. Hermione was bursting with questions.

"I'll explain the mage thingy later."

Simon pre-empted her first set of questions, but not her second.

"Where's your staff, how are you doing this without a wand, and why do you need glasses?"

"My staff is up my sleeve: it's in a folded pocket in space. See my watch? It's handling the magic for that. The background magic here's really high, so the energy cost is covered by background. For your second question, it's a mage thing. For your third, I need Glasses."

Hermione could hear the capital letter, but she was still confused. Simon explained.

"It's a link to my slate so that I can use it without to much trouble."

As the frames finished materializing, the slate went 'ding', and Simon turned his attention to the Glasses once more, pulling two lenses out of thin air, and fitting them into the frame.

Hermione looked like she had another question.

"The Glass is really just magic, forced to stay in solid form. I could have made them regular magic, but then they'd be invisible. I can turn magic into magical energy – those are two different things – and power constructs made out of either magic or solid magic, that's Glass, with it. I chose to make the lenses Glass, and not magic, because with magic, you must concentrate on its form to keep it that way, otherwise it just reverts to a solid ball of magic, and tries to float to the least magic-dense spot."

Hermione still looked confused.

"I could pop Glass into existence quickly because its just reshaping something I have, namely magic. I couldn't pop the frames into existence because I don't have any solid substance to transmute, so I had to use the air, and it's generally not a good idea to transmute air to quickly. If I had something solid, say, a chunk of wood, I could assemble the frames quite quickly."

Hermione was yet again confused.

"I'll explain things as we go along."

Simon looked at his timetable, in shock and dismay at the terrible format, and quickly copied the table to his slate, and rearranged the table to be more sensible.

"September Second of 1991, that's today, is a Monday. I have: Potions, History of Magic, lunch, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts – neat – break, dinner. Nice."

Ron looked concerned.

"Potions! That's Professor Snape! Fred and George told me about him. He's supposed to be really mean."

The group finished up breakfast, went up to their rooms, where Simon fetched a satchel from his trunk – both containers were extended spaces – and put his books and other school items in it. He shouldered the satchel, and headed off to Potions, in the dungeons. He pulled up the potions text on his slate.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in my classroom."

Professor Snape was the epitome of an evil potions master. Simon had even read about teacher like him back home, in books of fiction. He quizzed Harry on subjects Harry could not possibly be expected to know, and acted disappointed about it. He assigned a potion, something that should cure boils, and left the class to work without further instruction. Simon was aghast. Even in the most safe and simple practical classes he had taken, heck, even some theoretical ones, there had been a first lesson on safety.

Simon fetched the ingredients, an odd assortment, and started making the potion. He first copied down the procedure onto his slate, and put his textbook away. He started to read through the steps, when he noticed a wand wave. First, Professor Snape was lying about the lack of wand-waving, and second, what did that wand wave do? He followed the steps through until he had to wave his wand, and he looked at Hermione, who was just about to complete that step.

"Hermione, can you let me see what you're doing?"

"I'm completing step 5: wave your wand."

"Oh, OK."

Hermione waved her wand, and Simon felt a simple stream of magic, about a seven k-watts, and Simon turned back to his own potion, and pointed a finger at it, zapping it with about the same amount of magical energy.

"Cooper! What are you doing?" roared Snape.

"Sir?"

"Cooper, why do you not have your textbook out? Why did you point your finger at it, when the instructions that you should have been reading clearly state you wave your wand?"

"Sir, my slate here has the instructions on it, and I don't use wands."

"Enough cheek. Detention on Saturday. Give me that piece of glass, get out your textbook and wand, and do it right this time. _Evanesco_."

"Sir, I think we should see the headmaster."

"Mister Cooper, it may come as a surprise, but I am a teacher, and you will do as I say."

"Professor, taking my slate is a bad idea."

The potions master stalked over and snatched the piece of glass of the workbench, then tried to smash the Glass on the floor. It didn't. He pulled out his wand, and Simon quietly tapped the right side of his Glasses. The Professor cast a reductor curse at the slate. It bounced off, and hit the supplies cabinet. Simon whipped out his staff, and surrounded the pile of steaming ingredients with a shield as they exploded with all sorts of nasty effects swirling around.

"Professor, I think we should see the headmaster."

"I'll have you expelled! Expelled, I say!"

"Sir, what do you want me to do with this pile?"

Simon indicated the mess of ingredients he was containing with his staff.

"Leave it."

"Sir, it's under-"

"Leave it, now."

"Oh well."

Simon released the shield, in the meanwhile sweeping his staff into a blocking position as the pile of steaming goop exploded, splattering the rest of the room. The portion of the goop that was flying at the students was caught on the shield, which briefly flared blue, and he shook the staff as if shaking an umbrella dry.

The pair were standing in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was furious.

"Professor Snape! Simon warned you against your actions, and tried to warn you about what you told him to do! What were you thinking?"

In History of Magic, which Simon was shocked to hear was taught by a ghost, and thus, could not keep up to date with history, Harry and Ron were asking Simon about the Potions incident, but he was close mouthed about the whole event. Hermione, on the other hand, was dutifully taking notes. Simon had his slate recording the lecture, and was planning on borrowing some books from the library, say, all of them.

After class, Hermione was somewhat annoyed at Simon.

"Just because you have talent doesn't mean you don't need to work hard."

She glared accusingly.

"Relax, Hermione. I was recording the whole lecture, besides, I'm going to be going to the library for a more comprehensive coverage of the subject. Want to come with me?"

"Sure!"

The foursome headed off to lunch.

After an uneventful lunch, wherein Simon found that Snape was absent, the group headed off to charms. The charms professor, an extremely short man with an extremely long beard, took attendance, and started teaching the class about the levitation charm. Simon listened out of one ear, and this time, he remembered to bring his wand along. He started probing the various spell formulae stored. It was an exhaustive list, covering just about any possible type of magic. He transferred the list to his slate, determined to look it over soon.

"Mister Cooper!" squeaked Flitwick

"Oh yes."

Simon took a long hard look at the professor's desk, then, with a flourish of his hand, poked his finger at the desk. It started to float up into the air.

"Cooper! Put that down!" Flitwick exclaimed.

"Of course."

Simon slowly and gently let the desk drift down, all the while keeping his finger pointed at the desk.

Simon spent the rest of the class reading on his slate, going over the History of Magic lesson, while the Charms Professor talked to the rest of the class about how Simon had levitated the desk. Simon smiled to himself: the professor got the explanation completely wrong. To levitate something, you must apply an upwards force approximately equal to that of gravity. This does not have an intense energy requirement, since the object does not move over much distance.

Simon was looking forwards to defence, battle magic being something of his specialty. The defence professor, Professor Quirrell, was a nervous, stuttering teacher, and Simon decided to go through his own notes. He was particularly interested in how the mana pulse had overloaded his Faraday cage when his shield had interacted with it. He went over his slate's recording of the event.

"Mister Cooper? You're not interested?"

"Oh no. Here he goes again," commented Hermione.

"Professor, I'm not. I've already learned this material."

"Well then, if you'd like to demonstrate?"

"Professor, I'm worried I'll hurt you."

"Very well then. You may sit down."

After Defence, Hermione was somewhat annoyed.

"Simon, you've got to give the teachers some respect."

"Hermione, I've discovered some things about magic no-one has, and I realize I can't tell anyone about them."

They read the newspaper during dinner, wherein they found news of a break in at Gringotts.

Madam Prince, the librarian, was somewhat shocked when Simon asked to borrow the entire library, except books checked out or in the restricted section. She refused his request, and Simon appealed to the Headmaster.

The Headmaster decided to overrule Madam Prince, citing a distinct lack of rules regarding how many book may be checked out at any one time. He asked Simon how he planned to use all of those books.

"Well, Headmaster, I don't even plan on taking them off the shelves. If Madam Prince could please stand by the door into the Restricted section, to make sure I don't go in there, and everyone else leave the library, I'll just need about an hour alone with the books."

"That sounds fine to me. Madam Prince?"

"Well, alright, Headmaster."

Simon sat alone, at a desk, slate in front of him. He set his hands on the slate. He tapped his index fingers on the slate once. His Glasses flared Cherenkov blue, and ghostly indicator dials and readouts of blue light manifested themselves just in front of his eyes.

He stood up, and clapped his hands once. A spherical wave of blue light flooded out from himself, and started to engulf the library shelves. The glow spread out and started to leap from bookshelf to bookshelf, then infected the books and started them glowing. Madam Prince, from her post beside the restricted section, looked on, mystified. Just as suddenly, all the books and shelves stopped glowing in unison, and the glow abruptly snapped off, leaving only Simon's small bubble of glowing blue lights there. Simon glanced at the readouts, and they abruptly shut off as Simon waved a hand. Simon gathered up his slate, and set off to Madam Prince.

"Thank you. I now return all books I have checked out."

The librarian was still in shock.

* * *

To the anonymous Elle: mage isn't my idea, I stole it from QNTM's Ra. You should check that site out!

Please favourite/follow/review. Thanks!


	4. Book 1: Chapter 4: Two Battles

Simon lay in bed, reading his slate. He had just copied down every single book in the library, and he was sorting through the small pile of books his slate wasn't smart enough to categorize. He was going to Astronomy in a few hours, so he started to read through the unsorted books while he waited. So far, he had found several damaged books – he made a note to tell the librarian about that – as well as some hidden notes, from certain students both current and long dead. Apparently, stashing notes between books in the legal section was an interesting method of secret communication.

Astronomy was uneventful. He set up his telescope, similar in outward appearance to those of other students. However, it contained several Glass lenses of incredibly high power, and was linked to his slate and Glasses. The professor, Professor Sinistra, lectured about astronomy, and Simon payed attention, this being new material.

The next afternoon, after a not-too eventful day of lessons, Simon headed off to flying lessons. On brooms, no less! He was sketching designs on his slate for a personal staff-linked aircraft.

"Now, a want all of you to stand to the left side of your boom, hold your right hand over your broom, and say 'up'."

Simon did as Madam Hooch, the instructor, instructed, and nothing happened. He sent a few hundred k-joules of energy at the broom. It immediately lept up into his hand. He probed the inner workings, and found a simple sort of flight control system, although efficient, and undeniably elegant. Unfortunately, the system could not have external energy hooked in, so it had to rely on ambient magic. He mounted his broom, and looked around and waited. Some students didn't yet get it.

As the lesson progressed, Neville fell off his broom. With a swift leap, he jumped off of his broom, and drew his staff from within his robe's extended space. Pulling into the standard sky-diver's pose, he caught up to Neville as they fell, and wrapped his arms around Neville. Suddenly, the pair were slowing down, and they came to a stop just above the ground. Simon didn't notice the small glass bauble that fell out of Neville's pocket.

The Professor hurried off with Neville, leaving behind strict instructions not to go flying around.

"Hey Chicken-Coop! Look what Longbottom dropped!"

Simon turned towards Malfoy, and saw the glass (not Glass) bauble that Neville had dropped.

"You want to play silly buggers?"

"Cooper, I'll have this up a tree."

With that, Malfoy flew off. Harry lept on his broom, and sped off, despite objections from Hermione. Simon drew his staff, rapped it on the ground, then waved his left hand around a bit. Simon started to hover, then zoomed off after the pair. Malfoy threw the bauble when he saw Harry and Simon in hot pursuit. Simon flicked his left hand, as if throwing a rope, and an actual rope of blue light sped out of his hand and neatly snared the Remembrall. More ropes snapped out from his left hand, and snared both Harry and Malfoy's brooms. The trio then descended, with Simon pulling on the magical constructs linking him to the two boys' brooms.

The trio landed right in front of Madam Hooch, and her recriminations were severe, but not directed at Simon. Professor McGonagall handled that end, blasting him for blatantly misusing his own abilities, and showing off.

"Professor, I'm a mage. I can't help but show off. It comes with the metaphorical pointy hat and actual staff. It's a problem with holding so much mana."

"Well, try to keep it under control."

As the crowd of students headed back to their common rooms – flying lessons were Thursdays after all the other classes – Malfoy caught up with Simon.

"Wizard's duel, trophy room, midnight."

"How about a mages duel, same time, same place."

"Sure, whatever."

Simon didn't tell any of his friends about the challenge, and he woke up just before midnight. Quietly, and oddly silently, he put on his school uniform, stashed his staff and wand in his robes, and slipped out the door. As he stalked the halls, Glasses faintly glowing, he reached the trophy room. He pulled out his staff.

Malfoy entered, wand in hand.

"I'm sure you don't know the rules. First, we salute with wands."

He whipped his wand up in front of his face, as if saluting with a sword. Simon replied with the usual mages salute, striking his staff on the flagstones. He bowed, and Malfoy replied in kind. Simon straightened up, and held his staff at the ready.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Malfoy started the encounter with a disarming charm, which wasted itself against Simon's Faraday shield. Simon did not yet strike back. Malfoy continued, striking against Simon with a series of spells, each more powerful than the next, concluding with a fair attempt at a blasting curse. All were absorbed. Simon pointed his staff at Malfoy.

"Has this matter of honour been settled?"

Malfoy continued to cast at Simon. Simon sighed, and slammed his staff into the flagstones in front of him, where, oddly enough, the staff remained stuck upright. Simon started to wave arcane gestures into the air around the staff, all the while shielded against Malfoy's increasingly desperate spells. Simon concluded his gestures with both hands holding the staff, and he jerked the meter and a half of wood into a firing position. Simon gathered breath, and started a low, incredibly ominous chant. The floor and walls started to rumble as he continued, and Malfoy turned to run, but he found the doors out of the trophy room locked. The doors refused to unlock, even when he tried the unlocking charm. Simon finished the chant, and pointed the staff straight at Malfoy's rear end as he tried to run. The staff discharged a bolt of Cerenkov blue light, and the packet of magic crawled towards Malfoy at a leisurely pace. Malfoy saw the packet, and tried to run. The packet followed, homing in on Malfoy as it went.

"Draco Malfoy, of House Malfoy, Moste Noble and Ancient. Is your honour satisfied?"

Draco wondered about how an obvious mudblood could produce magic this powerful, and then he thought about how Cooper had even pronounced the 'e' in 'Moste'. He then thought about the implacable bolt of blue light, and how it moved at scarcely walking pace. He declined to answer.

"So be it."

Simon sighed, snapped his fingers, and the bolt of blue light suddenly sped up, and hit Malfoy squarely in the middle of his body (distance-wise), from the dorsal side. Malfoy crumpled to the floor, having been hit with a dueling mage's more commonly used spell, referred to as a 'magic missile'. The payload in this missile was a simple burst of electricity, intended to knock a target out. In this case, the missile was slightly understrength, Simon having adjusted it conservatively, not wanting to hurt Malfoy. Simon stalked off, back to Gryffindor tower, when he noticed the third floor corridor which Dumbledore had explicitly forbidden anyone to enter. Noticing a challenge, he walked in, staff at the ready and shield already up. He came to the second door, and saw it was locked. He cast a spell, and looked at his slate, before turning away from the door and hurrying back to his bed.

The next morning, Simon saw Malfoy at breakfast with the rest of the Slytherins, and gave a cheery wave. He was met with stony silence.

"Malfoy challenged me to a duel, and as I was returning last night, I went into the corridor on the third floor."

Hermione was aghast.

"Dumbledore warned us not to go in there."

"Relax, Hermione," opined Ron, "besides, what did you see there?"

"A good reason never to go back there. There was a three-headed dog, a Cerberus, I think, and it was guarding a trapdoor."

"That has to do with the package Hagrid picked up when he went to Diagon Alley with me," Harry supplied.

"I thought Professor McGonagall did that?"

The month of October passed by with great speed, as Simon continued to read through the books he copied from the library. The Halloween feast came with a swirl of decorations, but as they were going into the feast, Ron was poking Hermione about their recent charms lesson, and how Hermione seemed to be a know-it-all. Hermione had left with a flounce and a huff, before breaking into tears. Simon tried to follow her, but lost her in the crowd. He rejoined Ron and Harry as they sat down to the feast. Simon had brought his staff and textbooks from his lessons.

Ron was amazed at how Simon carried all those books. Simon explained that he didn't like to have to navigate the decidedly non-Euclidean passages of the castle.

"You see, I also can't just teleport within the castle: I have to know all the parameters of an interaction before I can use magic. For example, I can't just target Neville's toad and teleport him to me, because I don't know where it is, exactly. I could search for it with a wide-area pulse, but this castle is annoying. I can't feel out relative positions when going up, west, down, then east doesn't land you where you started."

Their conversation on the limitations of magic was interrupted when Professor Quirrell ran into the Great Hall, yelling. Simon briefly wondered why Quirrell wasn't in the hall with the rest of them, when what Quirrell was yelling was understood.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know."

As Quirrell fainted, mass panic erupted, but the house heads managed to get the students herded back towards their dormitories. Simon, Ron, and Harry realized together that Hermione wasn't with them. The group set off to find her.

The approached the girls bathroom, which was where Simon's spells told them Hermione was.

"Don't tell Hermione, but I put a tracker on her when she left."

The group burst into the bathroom to find a troll smashing up the place. Its club was headed towards their friend. Simon snapped into action, and with a grand wave of his hand, the troll's club was deflected to miss Hermione. Simon rubbed his hands together, then shoved the empty palm of a hand at the troll. As his hand reached full extension, a blue lance of light lept from his hand and smashed into the troll, hitting it squarely in the face. It stumbled. He followed it up with a second blast from his other hand, and drew his staff while the troll reeled from the impacts.

"Background magic just isn't up to the strain I'm putting on it."

Simon's observations were surprisingly calm for someone battling a troll.

"Oftentimes, for low-load spells, you can have them draw directly from background. Here, you've got a stronger background, so-"

Simon was cut off as the troll's swung club hit him, but the student remained unharmed. In fact, the club was cracked and fractured. Simon started chanting, but quickly stopped as the troll swung its club at his friends, instead snapping his staff to point at the club, sending blast of magic which blew the club into splinters.

"That spell is a standard force bolt. Basically, the magical packet continues towards a target, until it hits something liquid or solid, whereupon it sends a burst of force into its forward hemisphere. This produces a blast-like effect."

Simon was remarkably cool, perhaps safe in the knowledge that he couldn't be harmed by the troll. The troll looked confused, and continued its assault on Simon's friends with hands and feet. Simon, unnoticed by the rest, shot a second bolt of blue light at the troll, this time hitting its head. The troll crumbled.

"Somehow, I don't fell there's any tension in this scene. Hey! To whomever is writing my life, could you give me some more challenges?"

"Mate, who're you talking to?" asked Ron.

"It's just a silly habit of mine, thinking about my life as if it were a story. For example, what I just did there, and am doing now is an example of 'lampshade hanging'. It's a mage thing."

"Your going to have to explain the whole 'mage' thing to us one of these days." Harry said, still somewhat in shock over the nonchalant manner with which Simon had dealt with the troll.

"I will. Oh, here come the teachers."

Indeed, there came the teachers, and the group was scolded most severely for risking themselves, until Hermione spoke up in their defence. Professor McGonagall awarded house points, while Professor Snape looked on most distastefully.

* * *

WARNING! Divergence incoming!

Seriously, I know there isn't much tension. Simon's doing everything with ease, but Voldemort has noticed he's a mage.


	5. Book 1: Chapter 5: Possibilities

Christmas arrived to Hogwarts in a blur of snow and cold. Simon, as usual, simply ignored the cold, heating himself with a quick spell drawing from the local background. He really appreciated the extraordinarily high amounts of background magic. Harry had been playing Quidditch, but Simon didn't see the point of such a game, nor did he like it. However, the trio (not Simon: he was busy reading) had visited Hagrid, and they had returned with news of what was in the small room: something by Nicholas Flamel. Simon set to work reading through his library books.

"It's the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The what?" Harry asked, confused as to what Simon was talking about.

"The Philosopher's Stone, originally discovered by Nicholas Flamel, is the paragon of alchemy. It is supposed to be able to transform base metals into gold and grant immortality."

"So that's what Fluffy is guarding!"

"Who?"

"Fluffy, the Cerberus."

"Oh."

"I think the Philosopher's Stone is actually a Glass creation."

"What?"

"For function one, it merges nuclei until it reaches a gold nucleus, and it only does this with heavy nuclei. For function two, I'm not sure how it does the whole immortality thingy. I mean, I've got nanites keeping me in peak condition, but the stone... the stone does that too! It creates nanites!"

Suddenly, Neville ran over to the foursome.

"You've got to get to the front gates! There's an army there!"

The students rushed over. Simon reached out, and tapped into the school wards. He poked around the ancient magic, and found that it was designed for a mage.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione! I just figured it out! Voldemort knows about magecraft!"

"ALL STUDENTS, RETURN TO YOUR DORMITORIES! ALL PROFESSORS TO THE COURTYARD!"

"You guys, get home. I need to go do mage stuff."

Simon drew his staff, struck it against the ground once, and flew off. With a quick snap of his left hand, a glowing blue bubble of Glass surrounded him. He landed just in front of the gates, and held his staff at the ready.

"Mage. Set down your staff. We will kill you before you can even finish casting."

The army was large, and at its rear, commanding, was Professor Quirrell. Simon reached into the wards and removed the Professor from the list of people authorized as a Professor. He noted that the list of people authorized to operate the wards was, in fact, not limited. Apparently, the founders were not mages, but had bought magic off of a mage. Simon held his staff, and as a Death Eater fired off a bolt of green light, he batted it away with the end of his staff. He then swept his left hand across the row of advancing enemies, and let forth a burst of magic into his prepared spell. A scythe of light burst forth, impacting the wizards and witches. They crumpled, as if struck by a hammer, each and every one of them.

"What! Impossible!"

"What, did you think I had to go through with the fancy hand-waving and the theatrics?"

Simon continued casting, then lept into the air, and flew to the defence professor.

"Cousin, does the ground suit?"

The defence professor spoke the phrase one mage spoke when challenging another.

"Yes, Professor Quirrell, the ground suits. I had no idea you were a mage."

"How do you think I did all of my feats."

"You seek the Philosopher's stone because?"

"They should not have it."

"And you kill your followers by wasting them against me because?"

"I now have no need of these ignorant bigots. I will give magic to the masses."

"Like it or not, these people have a right to self-determination, no matter how strangely they choose to determine."

"And now, to show my true face."

Professor Quirrell took off his turban, and turned around: Voldemort's face was there. With a quick snap of his fingers, Quirrell's body was consumed, and Voldemort turned to face Simon once again.

The two drew staves, saluted, and set into the ready position. Simon activated his link to whatever was powering the wards. Simon continued to probe the wards, and found a toggle to raise the shields. He toggled it, and a shield of plain, clear Glass formed around the school. He was too distracted to continue as Voldemort flashed a beam of red light at him. As the beam hit Simon's first layer of defences, the analysis layer pinned the beam as a spell causing a reverse mana drain, and his slate's combat subroutines kicked in, catching the spell with a neatly focused conductor net. The mana from the spell drained neatly into a simple laser beam, which dissipated harmlessly against Voldemort's shield. Then, the sparring began in earnest. Flashes of blue and green light flashed between the two mages, turning the air turquoise with their glow. The shields on both mages started to glow, in a desperate attempt to radiate energy away.

Simon started to draw energy from the Hogwarts wards tap-in point. Somehow, it was generating a lot of energy. Some sort of external power feed, most likely. The pair continued to trade energy blasts.

Voldemort's followers were not idle during this period, as they were busily trying to breach the Hogwarts shield. No luck. Simon diverted his attention, and slammed on a switch in the wards that activated the more offensive countermeasures, and the wards started spitting lightning and fire. Simon was, however, distracted for too long, and Voldemort managed to sneak a blow in that knocked down his physical shield. Simon lept up and flew off, retreating behind the wards. Voldemort attempted to follow, but was rebuffed by the shield. Simon continued firing from inside the protection of the shield, while Voldemort worked his best against the elegant, though simple shield. The enemy mage managed to construct a short circuit in the shield, turning its own energy against itself, and Simon rejoined battle.

On the ground, the army massed there surged forwards, meeting an army of animated armour, and battle ensued there as well. The clash of arms, armour, and spells sounded along the entrance to the school.

Simon grappled on to Voldemort, and probed Voldemort's magics. The mage had immense mana stores, yet little draw rate. Simon continued his assault, focusing on staying below his draw rate. The maelstrom of chaos descended to the ground, and the two mages danced about each other with their staves, swinging, thrusting, casting, dodging, blocking, when finally, Simon saw that Voldemort was slackening the pace of his assault. This was, however, a brief reprieve, as Voldemort suddenly subverted the wards and started to draw power from the ward network.

The followers of Voldemort continued their assault against the animated armour, and managed to break through. The group of wizards, witches, and dark creatures all surged towards the entrance hall, intent on breaking the castle. The doors were closed and barred, and Dumbledore himself was leading the teachers in defending the school. Voldemort spared a few seconds to shoot off a series of bolts at the defenders, and in short succession, many went down. Simon jumped off the ground, and Voldemort gave chase. Dodging and weaving, Simon shot a dozen or so magic missiles towards Voldemort, but all were neutralized. Climbing for altitude, Simon broke one kilometer above the school, and he started to cut loose with his magic.

"You see? This is why you and I cannot stay. Who among them would be responsible enough, willing enough to hold off more powerful magic until they were clear of any non-mages?"

"That is why they must be given true magic."

"They see non-mages as no better than animals!"

"I will force them to respect everyone."

"Wars of nation-building never succeed. Besides, you can't force someone to respect anyone else."

The pair were slugging at each other with very powerful spells, even shooting chunks of Glass at hypersonic velocities. The whole area was now enveloped in a blue-green glow.

The pair broke ten kilometres, and Simon took advantage of that by throwing the magical equivalent of an electromagnetic pulse: he caused a large pulse of magical energy, sourced from his staff's internal reserves. The pulse blinded both Simon and Voldemort, as both had soon ceased to use conventional senses, and instead relied on magical senses. The pulse also disabled both of their Faraday shields, and Simon jumped on the opening he knew he had opened by pulsing a spell right at Voldemort. The spell wasted itself on the hastily erected Faraday net, and the two continued to slug it out.

A full fifty megawatts of power was being used to power destructive spells just ten kilometers above their heads. The barrage of waste heat that was almost always the result caused a faint glow to peek through the clouds. Simon sent one final powerful attack at Voldemort, and shut off the generator powering the wards, or tried to. The generator failed to respond, and Simon realized his error: the wards did not use the standard control scheme that he was used to.

"You will not defeat me!"

Simon decided to end this battle, hard. He detonated his staff, immolating it in the quick generation of trillions of joules of mana. As it exploded in his hands, he managed to batter down Voldemort's shields before the excess mana slipped away in a large pulse of magical energy. Voldemort erected a Faraday shield, the usual response to such a last-ditch manoeuvre, but Simon had held a few gigajoules in reserve: he fired off a conventional explosion, and Voldemort tried to erect a shield against that.

The mana pulse hit Voldemort's shields first, overloading the Faraday shield. Voldemort's physical shield drained into his Faraday shield. The blast hit. Voldemort disappeared.

The physical blast also hit Simon, who had put up his own Faraday shield and physical shield combination. The Faraday shield's siphon was induced to overload by Simon's last reserves of magic.

From the ground, the mana blast appeared as a bright blue bubble expanding within the clouds. The physical blast, the equivalent of about half a ton of high explosive, was far brighter. The double flash was followed by calm. Though Voldemort's followers still fought on, morale was against them; their leader had just been killed. They soon broke and ran.

Hogwarts was damaged, but it would recover. No trace of Simon or the Dark Lord so many had feared were found.

* * *

Fin?

Anyone want more?


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6: Epilogue

Simon woke up, and looked around. He wasn't sure where he was. The scene was utterly unfamiliar.

Voldemort looked up, and saw that Simon had shifted himself to another universe. No matter, he could liberate the people here as well. He tried to cast a spell, and suddenly found that there was no background magic at all, and his own reserves were already depleted.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall stood in the Headmaster's office.

"Now that Simon is gone, I can finally tell you about what he told me. You see, he explained what his magic could do, and what his people had build with it. Do you remember the explosions of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, at the end of Grindlewald's war? Those were not wizardly explosions, but created by the power of people, albeit an entire nation, but people nonetheless. Imagine a world where anyone, with a few bits of glass, could do that. War would be terrible, and would cause untold destruction. But, it didn't. Simon's people got together, and used that power for good. The weapons, one of which could wipe out more people than there are wizards in Britain, were set aside, and the titanic energies that powered them were used for good. Simon told me about how his people decided not to fight wars, and they were committed to never fight any wars again, to only use magic for good. He explained how his magic worked, and now I see who Merlin really was."

"Who?"

"Merlin was a mage! Merlin, the great and powerful, used his true magic to forever seal away that from the world, and gave us wands instead, so that we could still use magic. He saw, that we were not ready for the responsibility of using that magic. He- oh, who could that be, trying to find me at this late hour? Enter."

A trio of students walked in, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry spoke up.

"I found this in my trunk, sir, and- and I think you need to see it."

Harry held out a small chunk of red glass, with a matching blue and green chunk. Along was a note, written on parchment. The note read: "The three that hold these pieces of glass, and be they invested of great magical power, and the three that decide to release the true magic upon this world shall bring down the greatest work of Merlin. Be forewarned that all false magics will cease to work once the pieces of glass have been empowered with magic."

Professor Dumbledore sighed, and took the three pieces. He examined them, and found them to be similar in shape to the Philosopher's stone.

"I think, Minevra, that Simon has left us three artifacts. I shall hold one, the second shall go to my colleague, Nicholas Flamel, and the third shall be given to Grindlewald."

"Grindlewald, the dark wizard?"

"Yes, for this power is too great to be trusted to the light, and any attempt to have the stones reunited would be faced with great opposition, since it may be another plot. All in all, I think this a reasonable compromise."

* * *

Thus ends the story of Simon Cooper, for now.


	7. Book 2: Chapter 1: Return

Well, this is interesting. I'm starting this up again after leaving it for quite a while.

* * *

Simon, older and wiser now, after completing his university degree with his final project for his only research course being on the interactions between Faraday cage-impact shield interactions including a special section on siphon overloading.

Simon had placed his items into storage, and had prepared for this journey for a long time. Four years ago, he had accidentally slipped into a strange world. Now, he was returning. Voldemort, the mage, had been caught by the local police force for his crimes, and Simon had gotten a good mention for the incredibly low collateral damage that resulted from the confrontation. Usually, when mages fought, it was like a pair of nuclear weapons going off. He stepped into a side alley, and gathered his suitcase and carefully formed a Faraday cage around himself, his staff, his trunk, which had various items in it, but not the floor. He popped a shield of the same shape.

Simon took the brief discontinuity with ease, and immediately straddled the staff he was holding, an ornate staff of iron-shod oak wood with a glossy varnish finish. He held the staff like he was riding it like a broom, and he briefly waved his hands around and floated his trunk onto the back of the staff, and a pair of glassy-blue crystal bands held it to the staff. He kicked off from the ground, and the staff hovered in mid-air. He tapped his Glasses, and looked around, before setting off towards his destination.

The massive stone castle loomed before him, and he slipped to a stop in front of the castle's large wooden door. Simon raised a hand, and knocked on the door. He was confident of the date: July 31st.

An elderly wizard in half-moon spectacles opened the door and peered out at him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I seek a teaching post at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Simon, this is quite unexpected."

"I know. That's why I'm arriving as soon as I can, rather than just before the term started. You know, of course, about my glass stones."

"Yes, Simon, I do know about those."

"Good. What have you done with them? I hope you gave one to a Dark Wizard."

"As a matter of fact, we did. I gave one to Grindlewald, visited him in prison myself."

"That's a relief."

"Simon, what do you want to teach?"

"My type of magic. You must realize what Merlin did?"

"Yes, Simon, I do. You must have a way around it?"

"Of course. What Merlin did was create an alternate magic system, your wands. He also deliberately suppressed knowledge about my type of magic. From what I could tell, wizards were getting involved with wars in the Muggle world to ever increasing death tolls."

"Simon, are you sure this is wise? You are talking about introducing a magic that Merlin himself decided was too dangerous for the world!"

"Yes, I am sure this is wise. We just have to tell the ordinary people about this."

"Simon, what you are suggesting..."

"Has not been done since the time of Merlin, so on and so forth."

"Oh, yes, I know, but what I was going to say was that what you are suggesting needs to be cleared through the Ministry. I, as the Supreme Mugwump, will be putting forth a proposal to this effect. The ministry was already shaken by the apparent death of Voldemort, but I feel that I could push this through."

"Actual death. There was this grand old adventure I had getting home, but that's a story for another day."

"Simon, I will let you teach your course, but I do insist on talking with you about it first."

"Ask away, Headmaster. Ask away."

The pair entered the castle, Simon's trunk following him as he walked alongside Dumbledore, staff in hand.

Simon was asleep when he heard the alarm on his slate. Looking quickly over at where he had left it, leaning against a shelf, he saw that it was the thirty first of August. The events of the last few days had shaken him. Voldemort's followers had attacked the Quidditch World Cup. He headed up the ladder and out of his extended-space trunk into his office in one of the towers in the Castle, and looked over the well-kept room. He had several memos to read through, and he put them on to his Slate. He walked into his classroom, not a dingy stone room lit by torches or daylight, but an almost laboratory-like room lit by several magical light panels in the ceiling. The classroom was almost an exact copy of on of his university lab-classrooms, just fitted for a different class size. Classes were around thirty-five for a single class, seventy for a double, so he had fitted his room according to the expected number of students, thirty five a block, four blocks a day. His law could also fit thirty-five, though in pairs of two to a station. He had a door fitted to the side of his room that lead to an extended space of his own configuration, which Simon planned to use for demonstrations of the more volume-demanding sort.

Simon headed to the staff room, telling the gargoyles the password, where he sat down in one corner and started to read the memos. The notices were mostly about security and the upcoming Triwizard tournament.

"Cooper," Snape gave a nod.

"Snape," Simon replied.

"Your classroom isn't too small, now? I hear you were given a broom closet."

"Well, after I cleared out the closet, it was large enough. There's some really interesting Glasswork that I had to integrate with. Do you want me to, oh, expand your storage area? I can even make it climate-controlled."

"I'm sure that's not necessary. Would you like me to prepare some shrinking solution?"

"Only if we're going to be putting entire buildings in there. I've got enough room to fly a broom around comfortably."

Simon stood up and returned to his office, aware of the grudging respect that Snape had given him.

Simon was seated at the head table, near the far left end. The beginning-of-year feast had just started, when the front doors crashed open to see a dishevelled wizard walk in through the large double doors. He introduced himself as Alastor Moody, the new Defence professor. The Headmaster announced the Triwizard Tournament, as expected. He also introduced Simon, who then stood up to make his speech, amidst incredulous looks.

"Merlin was not a wizard, he was a mage. He set down the fundamental tenets of magic as you know it today. However, there is a magic more fundamental than yours. Your magic basks in the reflected light of true magic. I have very kindly been allowed to teach the basics of this magic by our Headmaster. Should you wish to sign up for this elective course, please see your head of house immediately. This course will be open to students in any year, and will, unfortunately, be separated by house."

The next day, Simon walked into his classroom from his office exactly at the start of class, still amidst chaotic conversation, and rapped his staff against the floor, creating a loud noise that startled most of the talking students into silence.

"This is not a Ministry-approved course. What you learn here will not be tested in any OWL, NEWT, or be given any recognition. I have the chance to teach a course completely free of any meddling, and by golly, I will teach if you will learn."

Simon placed his staff upright, then let go as if expecting it to stay upright, and it did. He started pacing around the front of the room.

"There will be no need for wands in this class. We will not need wands. There will be no need for a textbook or for notes, since magic relies on memorization."

He poked his finger at a pair of students in the back of the room who were busily engaged in their own conversation. Perhaps they expected that such a young teacher couldn't possibly be teaching anything worthwhile. A bolt of blue light zipped out of his finger and caused a large bang near their heads. They immediately turned around to look at Simon.

"Our classes will be demanding, and you will be exhausted at the end of every single class. However, to compensate, I will not be assigning homework. I will be suggesting exercises you could do, which I highly suggest you complete, but it is not mandatory. I will be marking you solely on the various tests throughout the year."

"Magic, as you know it, consists of saying an incantation, waving a wand, and thinking the right thoughts. Would someone care to demonstrate a spell without an incantation?"

A Ravenclaw stuck her hand up, and Simon gave a quick nod of approval. She levitated her schoolbag.

"Very good. Now, can someone demonstrate a spell without a wand?"

The same girl stuck her hand up.

"Yes?"

"Professor, that's impossible."

"No, it isn't. Allow me to demonstrate. I do solemnly swear that I do not have a wand on me."

Simon then very calmly started to glow blue and levitate above the ground. He continued his lesson.

"Merlin implemented your magic system on top of an existing system of magic. He then suppressed all knowledge of the underlying system, until today. Today, I will be introducing you to the Circuit Theory of Magic. Could you all please follow me into the second lab area?"

Simon dropped to the ground, and stuck out a hand, catching his staff as it flew into his hand.

"Come on! Wands, books, and quills away. We've got a lot to cover today."

Walking through a door at the back of the room, he entered the second lab area – his configurable extended space. Today, he had set it to be a grassy field.

"This is what I like to call the gymnasium. We're going to be spending a lot of time here, practising. Right now, I'd like to ask a few questions."

"Who here thinks that might makes right? In other words, who thinks wizards are better than muggles because wizards can do magic, and muggles can't?"

A good half of the class stuck their hands up.

"Now, if your hand was just up, I'd like you to think about this. This device I've set up in this room can turn any muggle into a mage. Not just a wizard, a mage. Right now, none of you can sense mana, so you wouldn't count as a mage. I had to go through this same process, too. Any of you who would object to muggles being able to become wizards should leave right away. You are not the kind of person who can be trusted with Glass."

Simon pronounced the capital G very clearly. A couple of Slytherins walked out, but the majority of the class remained.

"Good. What I am about to do is set off a concentrated mana pulse. This is very strong, so anyone who has a wand on them that they don't want to burst into flames from the sheer power should put it in their book bags right now. We'll wait for you."

No one moved.

"Alright. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

No one spoke.

He pointed at the large cube of blue-tinted glass that was set up in the middle of the space, and it immediately disappeared. Several students had their wands explode.

Simon immediately sprung into action, and waved his hand. The burning wands immediately went out.

"So, that was a few M-watts of power. That's around a tenth of the amount of power that could be used in a large-scale spell. For those of you who have lost your wands, see me after classes today for a detention and a new wand. For those of you who have kept their wands out of harm's way, go and get them, and we'll demonstrate how your wands work."

Around a quarter of the class went fetch their wands.

"Right. Try casting _lumos_."

None of them could manage it.

"Alright. Look at me."

Simon created a glob of mana in his left hand, and started it zipping around the class.

"Do you see it?"

The class murmured.

"Right. Close your eyes. Point towards where the glob is."

The class managed to follow the location of the glob.

"Good. Now, I want you to imagine pulling the air around you and pushing it into your wands. _With your minds only._ "

The class had a distinctly strained look on their faces.

"Imagine taking magic and pushing it into your wands. Think ' _lumos'_ as you're doing this."

The students with a wand managed to make their wands burst into flames on their first try.

"Now that we've hand a good demonstration of the power that we'll be dealing with, we'll be spending the rest of the class covering safety. We'll be staying here, and I'll be demonstrating some of the potential risks."

After explaining basic safety: always know what a circuit does, and always check by pushing a few watts through it, Simon demonstrated a standard short-circuit with an independent gathering setup.

"Alright. I have produced a rather ordinary safety demonstration. Anyone who still doubts how powerful or useful this magic is is invited to place anything they think is indestructible right in the circle I have marked with chalk."

No one put anything there.

"Good. Now, this is an example of what happens when you're not careful."

Simon set the collector/storage cell in motion, and erected a shield around the apparatus.

"This setup will cause magical destruction equivalent to a thousand blasting hexes at once."

The collector cell immediately overloaded, and released a pulse of heat and mana. Simon's shield caught the mana and used it to protect the class from the heat. He intentionally let most of the mana slip through.

"Feel that? That's pure mana blasting outwards. Try scooping some from the air and keeping it in you, mentally."

"Now that we've gone through the most interesting first day any of you are going to have, we're going to be covering basic theory for the next week before moving on to Circuit components."


End file.
